Fiothiel
by delphian
Summary: Romance that involves Legolas? Yes, it is. Cliche? MarySue? NEVER. Complex mystery, highly original plot, true to the book, and yes, romance with that darned elf prince. R&R.
1. chapter one

Disclaimer: I own none of the LotR characters, just my own. I try to stay as loyal as possible to Tolkien's work, but if I don't, it's just because I think it's beneficial to the story. Thanks! --- opaque

**Chapter One**

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            _Nothing compares to the beauty of the Rivendell forests; everlasting green and the warm autumnal colors of sunlight blend together in a quilt of dappled leaves spread before me, interrupted only by a slender thread of gleaming sapphire river weaving its way through the earthy banks, the solid ground I played warriors on when I was small, to now, when childhood dreams become reality…_

Fiothiel entertained these thoughts of her homeland as she stood ramrod straight on the gate entering the city, guarding her beloved palace and scanning the land for danger. Seeing only the quiet forest brought a soothing peace to her, smoothing out the tense knots in her spinal cord, though she still stood tall and proud with all the elven strength and grace she could summon. As a Royal Guard, her constant dignity was required.

            "Time to step down and give up your vigil for the moment, as much as I know you'll hate it," a voice interrupted her musings, and she turned and grinned at Isorfir.

            "It's all yours, even though I know you don't appreciate the landscape as I do," Fiothiel responded to her longtime friend and fellow Guard. "Where am I on watch now?"

            "It's your turn to go and wander the woods and pick up any odd looking characters for us to mock, and if you find any beautiful lost elf maidens, just send for me and I shall relieve you of your duties," a mock salute followed this comment, and she felt the twitches of a smile catch the corners of her lips.

            "Iso, you're far too kind," she muttered to herself as she turned and skipped down the steps to the stables to find her loyal horse, an inheritance passed from her father to her. T¢on, as she fondly called her horse, stamped merrily at the prospect of a jaunt through the woods. In less time than it took for a hawk to swoop down on its prey, they were off.

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            Fiothiel crept through the speckled golden light that played upon the spongy cushion of green moss. T¢on stayed quietly behind, aware that some danger was present. With the stealth of a snake, she crept up behind the unsuspecting intruder, who was standing with his hands behind his back watching the icy river. Fiothiel noted that he was armed, a quiver full of arrows strapped to his back. A dagger rested in a leather sheath strapped to a belt slung low around his waist. Fiothel planned her attack, took a deep breath, and stepped forwards.

            The stranger was clueless as to her approach, but was quick enough to catch her out of the corner of his eye and turn to hide, causing precious seconds to tick frantically in her head. She stood in a crouched position, dagger drawn, turning this way and that to try and find the trespasser. 

            "Come out, _wethrinaer, _it is no use to hide from an _ohtar_ of Rivendell, I can call whomever I wish to assist me. State your business, and no harm will come unto you!"

            A melodical deep-voiced male laugh echoed from somewhere to her left. She whirled around, and the intruder spoke:

            "I believe I have more of a right to wander these forests than you do, milady. You do not realize whom you are challenging with your brave words."

            Fiothiel responded quickly. "Then show your face, for if you were indeed someone worth recognizing, you would not have come alone, and that I notice you are. Reveal yourself!"

            No answer came from the woods. Fiothiel slipped towards the direction of the voice, and heard a twig crack to her right. Her breath snapped in her throat, and she turned and immediately had her arm around the trespasser's neck, her dagger a mere hairsbreadth away from his throat. Her lips were just inches away from the curved shell of an ear, and she noticed that the tips were pointed. _Careful_, she thought, _this is no clumsy human._

            "Speak your name, _wethrin_, or I shall do what is necessary"

            Fiothiel was suddenly caught off guard as the stranger wrenched himself deftly out of her grip, and his foot caught the back of her knees and made her stumble. She fell, and the elf pinned her neatly to the ground, one knee on her chest, breathing heavily. Her eyes widened with shock, and her mouth fell open with not often expressed horror. She threw her dagger to the ground, swallowed her pride, and said in a trembling voice, "Speak your name, though I believe I may know your face"

            The golden-haired elf above her smiled wryly, stood, and bowed; 

"Prince of the realm of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf is my name."

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wethrinaer: deceitful one

ohtar: warrior

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	2. chapter two

 Disclaimer: The only characters I know are the original ones.

**Chapter Two**

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            It seemed like decades ticked by before again, he spoke. 

            "Well, _dinaerea_, it seems that I will forever be forced to not know the name of my attacker. For one who made such fierce claims before, you seem suddenly very meek."

He was mocking her! That much was clear… first not stating his name, which could have saved her from this horrid situation, now he was mocking her? She had taken enough.

            "For a prince famed for his fighting skills, you almost got yourself beheaded by a 'simple' royal guard… and I may be silent, but it is for shock that an elf with a rank such as yours enjoys playing games with those fighting to protect those of his kind!"

His cerulean blue eyes flickered, but for embarrassment at being discovered in trickery or in anger at the insolence of the young maid before him Fiothiel did not know.

"You saw I was an elf, did you not? Why on earth would you attack an elf? And I do believe I have introduced myself, and it was not known to me that Royal Guards addressed royalty this way, much less _female_ guards!"

Fiothiel's mouth fell open, and she knew at once she had overstepped her boundaries. At the expense of her pride, she spoke:

"Royalty, _Prince_ Legolas, arrive with an escort to avoid attackers, or even worse, 'careless' guards. You chose to arrive alone, I see. What are you trying to prove?"

He drew himself up taller, in fury at the defensiveness of this Guard, from the looks of her, not even 2000 years old! How dare she speak to him like this when he had traveled so far? He checked his anger, and spoke, coldly.

" This debate can be settled later, mi_lady_. I believe you should show me to the palace now, unless you wish to further abandon your duties…"

Fiothiel chose to keep quiet, turned on her heel, and showed him to where her horse was tied, and in an awkward silence they rode back to the castle, both stiff and silent.

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	3. chapter three

Disclaimer: See chapter one

To reviewers: Thanks a ton for all your tips, I appreciate them! 

Chapter Three 

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            The clash of swords could be heard throughout Rivendell as Fiothiel thrust and parried her way across the cold floor. Sweaty and disheveled, she watched her opponent through slit eyes as she knocked his sword out of his hand and tripped him, securing him to the stone floor with the tip of her boot. With her sword pointed between his eyes, she said:

            "Now do you surrender? Or shall I slit you from throat to stomach?"

            "Well aren't we touchy today, 'Thiel! One would think I was some sort of Orc or whatnot, hm?"

            "Oh silence, Iso, there is only so much I can deal with right now! If you only knew what kind of pit I have thrown myself into today…"

            "From the sound of it, the pit contained wizards who were practicing spells on how to turn cheery elven maids into irritated monsters!" at her venomous glance, he added hurriedly, "Not as if my opinion matters however… I don't know why I would have said something like that…"

            Fiothiel sighed and proceeded to tell her longtime companion the events of the morning. When she finished, he said, "Can it be worse than when you lost the Lord's prize stallion? You're still here, aren't you?"

            She rolled her eyes. "Lord Elrond knows me, and it was an accident, I did not attack his horse from behind and threaten to slit its throat!"

            "It would not have known what you said anyways, 'Thiel," Isorfir commented.

            Fiothiel groaned. "You are of no help! Who knows what could happen to me now? He was more than a bit irked when I spoke back to him in the forest… but he tricked me, and it could have cost him his life! Which right now I place _very_ little value upon…"

            Isorfir chortled, then put on a straight face and looked straight behind Fiothiel. She sensed someone behind her, and turned quickly to come face-to-face with her stern captain, Tadieron.

            "Fiothiel, I would speak with you…now"

She swallowed and followed him closely, throwing behind a worried glance.

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            She walked into Elrond's study, a place she had only seen once before, when she was questioned about the horse she absentmindedly forgot to tie up. Two elves stood up when she entered; Elrond, and… Legolas. It was just as Fiothiel had expected. 

            She curtsied as best she could, in her slightly dirty Guards uniform. They nodded, and gestured for her to sit. All she could do now was listen.

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	4. chapter four

Disclaimer: see chapter one if the disclaimer actually interests you

**Chapter Four**

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            Formalities were exchanged slowly while Fiothiel sat itching in her seat, waiting for the real punishment that was sure to come. Surely she was not to be punished for the current weather, so why didn't they just get on with it!

            Sure enough, Elrond turned to her and spoke in a gentle voice, "'Thiel, I believe that you know why you are here… but I will repeat it in case we have any storyline…differences."

            Legolas raised his eyebrows at this shaky show of faith.

            He continued, "I understand you attacked Legolas in the woods when you assumed he was an intruder. Surely, 'Thiel, you know better than to pounce on just anyone!"

            Exasperated, she spoke, "He told me not his name, milord. Otherwise I never would have, well, 'pounced' on him, as you put it. It was suspicious enough to merit an attack."

            Elrond smiled slightly, and his eyes twinkled as he leaned towards her, "That must have been quite some attack, to bring down that elf." Tadieron coughed, and Elrond leaned back slowly and resumed his serious expression. "However, I'm afraid that you must accept a punishment for your… hastiness."

            Legolas looked at Elrond, who nodded, and said rather gently, "'Thiel, I have known you for ages, and you are one of our best guards," Legolas looked slightly miffed, but said nothing. "This, however, was horribly inappropriate, and you will serve a punishment for your actions; you will be denoted back down to be trained in discipline, and to hone your fighting skills, although they are sure not to need much help if you brought down Prince Legolas," Elrond smiled apologetically at her, and she knew that he could not let this one go by, attacking royalty was no small misdemeanor. Legolas glanced at her, and in his gaze flickered slight amusement. Amused was he? She didn't see anything funny about the situation, that was for sure.

            Out of nowhere, the heavy mahogany door was jerked open with a bang.

            A breathless serving maid, tears streaming down her cheeks stood framed by the halo of sunlight in the doorway. She spoke, her voice choked by sobs and horror:

            "The lady Celebrwien… she's dead"

With that spoken, she collapsed.

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	5. chapter five

Disclaimer: check the first three chapters for this baby

Chapter Five 

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Rivendell Royal Guards had been a tradition ever since Rivendell was established as an elven community. They kept the forest safe, patrolled the borders, escorted travelers, bravely fought off onslaughts of invaders and orcs…

            But never had Fiothiel seen a battle scene within the untarnished walls so many thought sacred.

Instead of rivers of glassy blue, rivers of deep red pooled between the polished tiles. Instead of tall, proud trees, debris from the scuffle lay unmoving on the red stained floor. And in the center of all this, the lady Celebrwien lay twisted on the floor, her throat slit, pale hands clutched in death around her slender neck.

            Isorfir's sister.

Fiothiel's mind froze. She watched the scene through a glass bubble, time moving in fast forward as the news spread like wildfire. She snapped back to attention, not wanting anyone else to break the news to Isorfir. She stepped out the door, and raced to the archery grounds. Fiothiel stopped as she saw him, almost wanting to leave things as they were, to keep him isolated, safe. But she knew she had to tell him, and slowly approached him, salty tears blurring her vision. Her safe haven was no more.

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            Hours later, Fiothiel held Isorfir as he rocked in her arms, his body racked with sobs. Never before had she seen him even shed a tear. His whole body shook, and the very ground beneath them seemed to tremble with the effort of his grief. In time he quieted, and they stared at each other, shirtfronts dampened with elven tears. As guards, they expected the unexpected, but inside Rivendell, things should be safe.

            "If our parents were alive to see this…" his voice trailed off to a cracked whisper.

            "'Twas not our fault, Iso," she said quietly. "No one has come in or left all week."

            "Celebrwien," he gasped. "why Celebrwien? So young, betrothed to her childhood love…why does such tragedy breathe it's wrath on the joyous? I would beseech whatever power that has wrought this to take me instead!"

            They stayed on the bench through the night, each taking solace in the others promise of friendship.

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Review please! I'm changing the summary, because it definitely no longer fits the current events..


	6. chapter six

Disclaimer: I bothered to write this in chapters one, two and three so be a dear and check there if you're curious

Chapter Six 

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            So enveloped in their grief and the shattering of their world as they knew it were the two friends that they did not notice a silent figure watching them in the shadows. Hazel eyes glowed, drinking in the sadness they radiated. Satisfied, the figure slipped like an arrow through the hedges, and retreated towards the path.

            The shadow failed to notice a taller figure coming to take it's place, but satisfied was not the feeling he felt as he watched the pair not with hazel eyes, but eyes of deep ocean.

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            Fiothiel was shocked at how normally things went on in Rivendell just the morning after. The garden terrace was spotlessly clean, but emulated a sterile sadness that sank in to whoever dared pass the roses, which seemed to have faded from a vibrant red to a dull rust, drained.

            Her handmaiden, Anelith, informed her quietly that she was expected at the archery grounds as soon as possible. Fiothiel nodded, wondering who would instruct her. Isorfir? Surely not, they would not dare put the two of them together, besides she had bid him a tearful goodbye this morning, she remembered it clearly:

            "Be brave, 'Thiel. There is nothing that we can't get through together, hmm? I surely would have fallen apart without you… don't play any pranks without me." He said this jovially, but tears leaked down his cheeks as he leaned off his horse to kiss her gently on the cheek. Accompanied by some other guards, he was to escort the body of his beloved sister back to his family in Mirkwood.

            As he bent to brush a kiss against her cheek, she grabbed him by the collar and whispered fiercely in his ear:

            "I will find whoever committed this atrocity, Iso, and I swear that on my life and yours. Go in peace, _elen sila lumen omentilmo_."

            She released him, and he rode off, iron laced up his spine, a true Royal Guard.

Fiothiel remembered all the times they had laughed together, when they thought all good would remain.

            Never again would she let her defenses down.

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            She walked silently to the archery range, her eyes straight ahead, mind somewhere in the clouds. What was she to do without Isorfir? She wondered if her instructor knew of her mistake just the day before.

            She stopped as she realized that he was the "trespasser" of the day before.

            Resigned to her fate, she stepped towards him and curtsied. "Prince Legolas, am I correct in assuming that you are appointed to assist me in my battle skills?"

            He turned, not expecting her for the second time, she was indeed a true elf, soft of step. The events of the day before had drained her of her spark, the spirit that he had so fleetingly glimpsed the day before, in the soft hours of the morning, untainted by something so many wished to forget.

            He blinked slowly, then spoke. "Shall we begin?"

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	7. chapter seven

 Disclaimer: Contrary to popular belief my last name is not Tolkien… hard to believe I know

Chapter Seven 

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Silence stretched for acres between them, words were useless, and all they would do was echo needlessly.

            Feelings, however, ran rampant.

In some far corner of her mind, Fiothiel could not help but blame the prince for what had happened, if he had not been so childish as to drag her off to be punished, she could have prevented all this…

            She chided herself for thinking such, but in a way, it told her what she wanted to hear; that the killer had been an intruder, not one that lived with them, ate with them… she shivered.

            Legolas noticed this, seeing her bowstring quiver as she notched it. Her hands shook, and finally she pointed it down and shot it into the ground, surrendering to what she was trying to keep buried. Fiothiel turned her back, so he could not see the wretched expression on her face. Alarmed, he tried to think of ways to console her, but shame for bringing this upon her held him back. Minutes passed, and he spoke.

            "Milady, I feel horribly for how I acted yesterday… it was an impulse, I considered it a game, but no game should play upon elven lives like this. I… I am partially responsible fo-…"

            She cut his rambling trail of speech of quickly as she turned. "My lord, what happened yesterday should not be put to blame on anyone but they who held the knife in their hand. Indeed, dragging me off was unbelievably childish, but it is now behind us. Archery does not seem to be fitting as of now, perhaps we should move to something else?"

            He tried to hide his grin as she brushed past him and walked towards the dueling grounds. All was not lost.

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            For the second time in as many days, she had him pinned.

            He held up his hands, trying not to look amazed and worried at the fury flashing in her green eyes.

            "I surrender. And would you please try not to look so angry, it's quite disconcerting!"

Fiothiel threw her sword to the other hand and turned on her heel. It made him slightly angry to see how she treated this as another assignment, to be done with quickly, easily, and with such accuracy he wanted to scream. Although he was not letting himself go fully, he still could not get the upper hand. He knew that her biggest flaw was not being in control, not being able to execute things cleanly.

            Which is why it so pained her not knowing who had murdered Celebrwien. 

Though he did not know this, she twisted and shook in her bed at night, her mind aflame with the need for knowledge, nightmares that she thought never could pass their way through the wood gates of Rivendell. She shot upright in the early hours of the morning, cheeks flaming, eyes glassy, her golden brown hair twisted in waves falling down her back. She could feel heat radiating from her body, and one glance in the mirror confirmed her suspicions of illness. Fiothiel walked down to Anelith's bedroom, knocked once, and entered.

            Anelith turned quickly, shocked at seeing her awake, and walking about the halls in nothing but a 

nightgown. 

"Good morning Ane, would you happen to know where my riding clothes are? I can't find them anywhere."

            The handmaiden spoke. "No milady, I know not where they are… perhaps check behind your dresser? They may have fallen there by mistake."

            Fiothiel nodded, and threw a thank you behind her shoulder.

Anelith turned back around, and breathed a sigh. She knew very well where the riding clothes were; she had used them herself, just last night.

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            Fiothiel walked slowly towards the stables, trying to ignore the pain that rumbled through her body, pounding its way up to her head. She brushed her horse's muzzle lightly, and turned at the feeling of a hand upon her shoulder.

            "I thought we could ride around the woods today, take a break from swordplay," her cheeks looked rosier than usual, and her eyes seemed to reflect his. "Are you sure you're feeling well, lady Fiothiel?"

            She laughed, a sound he had never heard from her in their two weeks of acquaintance. "I'm fine, but I am no Lady, just a 'simple Royal Guard'," she cocked an eyebrow and mounted her horse, laughing no more. Legolas tried to recall the sound of her laughter, to put it to memory. He knew not when he would ever hear it again.

            Hooves pounded grass, dirt kicking up in clumps from the cool ground. After roughly an hour of riding, they stopped in a glade, leaning back as each drank in the beauty of the forest. She shut her eyes, and he caught himself watching her, scrutinizing her every inch.

            She was rather tall for a female elf, though he still stood a good two inches above her; he guessed she was about six feet even. She was slender, with neatly curved hips and chest. Lithe was a word that came to mind. Her hair was brown, laced with honey tones, falling in tangled waves down to the small of her back. Her skin was tanned, almost olive, highly unusual for an elf. Her neck was long and gracefully curved, as were her hands and fingers. A strong jaw, small, delicate looking ears. Rosy lips, the bottom lip fuller than the top. Small nose, high cheekbones, finely arched eyebrows, high forehead. Though she would not be called beautiful by elven standards, he found her almost exotic. It was her eyes that caught his interest, he could have sworn that they changed color as to her mood. When she was angry, they flashed a bright, captivating green, and when her mind was off somewhere else, they turned to placid pools of aqua blue. Framed by lush, dark lashes, they could spark interest, radiate sorrow, or flash fury.

            His reverie was interrupted by her groan, and those eyes that could shoot daggers now snapped open. She moaned, and put a hand to her forehead. He felt a flash of concern, and asked her if she was well.

            "What does it look like?" she snapped, and fought back waves of darkness and fatigue from her persistent nightmares. Was this to take over her days as well as her restless nights?

            He glanced at her worriedly. "We'll go back now, but I am concerned as to how you will fare on a horse… you're sure that you can make it back?"

            "I'm _fine_, my lord, just keep going, I shall ride behind you."

He nodded, and they were on their way. Legolas entertained the thoughts rolling through his mind, but was interrupted by a sickeningly loud _crack_ that echoed through the glade. He turned; only to see Fiothiel's horse spooked, and her sprawled on the ground, her arm twisted at a disgustingly impossible angle.

            In an instant he had her up on his horse, trying his best to not disturb her left arm. He rode quickly back, praying that she would wake… why did everything happen to her when he was near?

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	8. chapter eight

Disclaimer: look to chapter one

Chapter Eight 

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            Whispers darted around corners and hid in spiderwebs, reaching curious ears that took them in, and lips that spread them throughout all of Rivendell. The visiting Prince had galloped full speed into the stables, holding tight to him a struggling Guard, the only female one at that. She was unconscious, and still she fought against his arms, tears pouring down her cheeks as she mumbled incoherently. She lay now in the room of the Healers, her feverish face and tangled golden hair a sharp contrast to the clean white of the sheets. When an elf was ill, it was known to all as a momentous occasion. 

            Legolas felt deeply disturbed whenever he was near her unconscious form, yet compelled to try and wake her, soothe her troubled mind. He had to hold her down when the healers set her arm, and he nearly felt sick himself, seeing her so passive, her fiery eyes shut closed while her mangled arm was twisted viciously back into place. Disturbance hovered around her, creating a misty cloud that made her hard to reach out to. Legolas knew what tormented her; he too had the same demons twisting through his conscious mind.

            Nightmares rumbled through her mind, leaving behind earthquakes that left her crumpled, folded in on herself. He watched her for days, willing the apparitions that flushed her cheeks rosy pink to find another soul to torment. On the third day, as the sun rose, its reflection glinted in the aqua orbs he had prayed would open. Blue crashed upon blue as silence rang clear.

            "Isorfir?"

            A weak smile played upon his lips. "No, I don't believe so milady, although he is due to come back fairly soon."

            Fiothiel blinked, midnight lashes brushing olive skin as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. He stood, and she stared up at him, her troubles frolicking with nightmares on the insides of her eyelids.

            "Walk with me, Prince Legolas."

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            The grounds were quiet, the sun having just broke over the trees that rimmed the horizon. Already it was pleasantly warm for autumn, but a crispness hung in the air, waiting patiently for when its time would come. Fiothiel walked ahead of Legolas, her ivory nightgown flowing behind her like a wispy cloud as she spoke softly, her voice husky and docile from her illness. She told him of her nightmares, her worries that Celebrwien was not to be the only one to be sent to an early grave. Words trickled from her mouth, reluctant and afraid of judgment. Legolas needed not to speak, even a simple word from her mouth carried such meaning that it filled any silence that might have followed.

            "Never have I needed to be consoled, to be told things were at peace. I was always the first one to know that it was, solid in the notion that all things terrible could be kept outside Rivendell's walls. When something happened within, I feel as if I am trapped with a demon within impenetrable walls. I want nothing more then to pretend this never happened, as others have, but concealing this is something my spirit will not let me do…"

            She trailed off, and turned to face him, her broken arm behind her back. "I know I am not alone in wanting to abolish this, for I was not asleep all of these three days. I saw you watching me, and noticed that I am not alone in my worries. Please, Prince Legolas, tell me that you will assist me, and that you want Rivendell safe again as much as I do."

            Lost for words at the earnestness of this strong-willed maiden before him, hesitated before speaking. "I have met no one as perceptive as you, my lady, and would like nothing more then to see this avenged and the souls of the people quieted."

            Fiothiel grinned widely, and without a word, threw her arms around his neck and spoke. "At first I doubted myself in asking you for help, but now I know I am justified in doing so… thank you!"

            Caught by surprise, Legolas wrapped his arms around her waist, and breathed in her smell of comfort. Although he had been the one asked for assistance, he felt a sense of solace that had been gone for longer then he could remember.

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	9. chapter nine

Disclaimer: Go back to chapters one, two or three if reading disclaimers gives you a thrill

Chapter Nine 

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            Peace crept over the edge of the window and slid in fast forward to splatter the cream sheets with a honey glow. Fiothiel blinked at the sun that drew her out of her slumber, and realized who would be arriving within minutes. Sheets flew to the floor as she threw a glance at the mirror, raked slender fingers through the rumpled curls, and shot out the door like a swallow caught in an upward draft.

            From the swallow's-eye-view, one could see a figure clad in a flowing off white shift run towards a proud man on a horse, who softened when he saw her and vaulted off the animal. She threw herself into his arms, and he spun her in circles with ease, their laughter and babble audible from even the rooftop, where a figure sat watching. Flaxen hair spun in circles around his shoulders as lines crinkled at the corners of blue pools, squinting to try and view the scene clearer. His heart warmed at the prospect of her friend returning home, but it also flipped somersaults in reaction to part of her time being taken from him. Such possessive thoughts were completely unnecessary, but one's thoughts cannot be discarded so easily, and are left to simmer in with ones meant to overpower. He closed his eyes, and slipped down off the roof to the balcony of his room.

            If a swallow were indeed to be at roof height, were it to catch the warm breeze to the other side of the turret, it would see another figure, but were it able to read feelings, it would have known that it was for the best the two were on opposite sides… hazel does not mix with blue.

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            The night of Isorfir's return, there was to be a gathering of the community to welcome him and his comrades back. The nights grew cold in Rivendell, and the chill in the air was undeniable; roses turned brown, cobblestones turned icy gray. As this was formal affair, Fiothiel dressed herself appropriately in a gown of a cream color, velvety in texture. In elven fashion the sleeves drew to a tip right above her fingers, and the gown followed her curves and flowed in spilling waves to the ground. The neckline made a wide, deep v to expose her smooth, golden neck, and stopped just short of her breast. She draped around her neck a deep green, emerald scarf, which swirled in two tails down her back and to the floor. Skillfully she arranged her wavy hair in a flowing knot at the back of her head. Taking a deep breath, she arranged her face in a manner she hoped appeared nonchalant, taking as much care with her expression as she had with her dress. Anelith watched her carefully, noting her apparent unease. A knock sounded at her door, and she smiled at Anelith.

            "You're sure you don't want to attend?"

Anelith smiled shyly and replied, "My lady, such an occasion is far too fine for the likes of myself, I would surely know not what to do among such finery."

Fiothiel answered soothingly. "Please, Ane, do not call me a lady, for my rank is no higher than yours. I have told you for years… please, think of me as a friend, and call me just Fiothiel."

Anelith nodded, and watched as she shut the door with a smile and a goodbye.

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            When Isorfir smiled, Fiothiel felt as if her whole self was soothed, her rough spots smoothed, and peace settled in her breast, at least for a minute. She knew one other who had this effect on her, though she could not place who…

            He spoke, breaking her from her unconscious thoughts.

            "I was hoping to escort you this evening milady, but it appears I come too late."

Isorfir squeezed Fiothiel's arm gently. "My prince, I am sure that the lady will save you a dance, but I believe that we have more important things at hand then manners and dances, correct?"

Legolas snapped back from his initial shock at seeing the woman he had spent 2 weeks with suddenly reappear as an apparition of beauty. "I apologize, and yes, we do. First, call me not prince, but just Legolas will do fine,"

Fiothiel interrupted. "All that needs to be said is: pretend that naught is amiss, and go on with the evening as you would normally. In addition, keep an eye honed for strange occurrences, and find a way to alert the other should something happen. Agreed?"

The two elves nodded, and together they walked, heads high, into something they could only think about in their wildest nightmares.

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	10. chapter ten

Disclaimer: Check chapter one

Chapter Ten 

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            Lights glittered and voices like bells laughed, but Fiothiel felt the scene was like a crown with sparkling jewels whose settings were rotten. She had no stomach for parties and dances, hoping instead to be appointed to guard the front gates, pacing back and forth between the torchlights. No such luck tonight, she thought.

            She noticed not that people watched her; more important things were on her mind. A true warrior, she stood tall and graceful, hiding her unease. She flicked her eyes over various elves, looking for a hint of anything spoiled, any warning sign. She found none, and her attention was diverted when her gaze fell upon Isorfir's childhood friend and cousin, Corintur. He had left with Isorfir after the death of Celebrwien, but had returned, and now stood grinning broadly, in full Guard uniform. Fiothiel stepped forwards to greet him.

            "'Thiel!" he cried at her approach. Gallantly he took her hand and brushed a kiss on the knuckles. "I have missed you, and this rascal as well," he grabbed Isorfir, and mussed his hair affectionately, "even though it has only been hours since I have seen him last."

            Fiothiel smiled, and replied. "I am glad to see you as well, Corin, and I extend my sympathies to you for the loss of a cousin, seeing as I have not had the chance yet."

            Corin's smile faded, but he nodded his thanks. He resumed talking to Isorfir, and Fiothiel turned and continued to search the hall. Candles glowed behind green glass, throwing a calm and mysterious light across the tiles. The hall was chilly, and Fiothiel could see leaves falling outside the tall windows, whipped against the glass by a cold breeze. Unwillingly, her mind wandered about and settled on the disturbing thought that whoever killed Celebrwien was in this hall, making merry with those she held dear. She shuddered, and suddenly noticed that during her musings she had wandered out of the room, and into the hall outside. Thinking to clear her head, she walked out to an old balcony; resting shaking hands on the crumbling, cool stone railing.

            A decidedly male voice brushed at her ears, tensing the muscles in her shoulders.

            "I see I am not alone in my troubles tonight."

            A play on a smile twisted the corners of her lips. "You see through me, Legolas. Troubled I may be, but alone I know I am not."

            She turned to him then, and leaned against the railing, taking in the moonlit glow of his profile, watching him gaze out at the woods beyond, as if looking for an answer. "I would appreciate your take on this situation, because although I scan all faces strange or unbeknownst, I notice nothing of suspicion, no malice. Am I alone in this?"

            He turned to her finally, and shook his head slowly. "I share in your confusion, and nothing is any clearer to me then it appears to be to you. I would give all wealth just to know who, but coins can do nothing, as with battle skills."

            "Helpless as a child in the Misty Mountains," she whispered. She gazed up at him; moonlight reflecting arrows from her eyes straight through his heart. He could do nothing but let his gaze slip over her, taking in her golden skin, bright eyes, and the helplessness that made him want to hold her, as he wished somewhere someone would do for him.

            Seeing his eyes glance over her, she put a hand on his shoulder, and looked straight into the blue depths. "Ahead we may not be, but strong I know you are. Take comfort…" as she said this, her voice dipped, and her eyes closed, lashes throwing a shadow over strong cheekbones. Her hand slipped, but he caught it before it could fall to her waist. Her eyes opened bright, but closed again in a blink as he brought her hand to his lips. He kissed her palm, and unwittingly she extended a slender finger to trace his jawline. So natural were these actions, she forgot all reserves and stepped closer. Seeing her come forward, Legolas discarded all inhibitions and took her chin in his hand, speaking softly, but with a gravel undertone.

            "Your bravery has undone me, Fiothiel."

And with that every candle in the hall blew out, in one chill breath.

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Next chapter is underway, review!


	11. chapter eleven

Disclaimer: Check chapter one

Chapter Eleven 

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He understood now the poignancy in an upwards glance, the depth of a whisper. Something had unfolded itself before him, but the moment was too fleeting in its passing for him to envelop it. Her hand slipped from his face, the pads of her fingers leaving behind naught but a breeze.

She stepped quickly out from the balcony; her slippered feet padded quickly down the hall. Pausing briefly in front of the ballroom, she caught the sound of shocked murmurs, and her eyes were drawn to the full pane windows, slamming against the walls as several elves struggled to close them against the wind. 

            They had been unlatched. 

The halls were dark, and she stepped back into the maze. Isorfir was not in the ballroom. She turned, and ran flush into Legolas, who looked somewhat out of place. 

"Explore the northeast wing, and I will follow the opposite path. Call if you find anything."

He nodded but caught her hand before she could turn away. Her eyes reflected the glint of a solitary candle as she slowed, catching the reality of the seconds that crept by.

"Take care, milady. _Vesta amin…_"

Another tick of the clock sounded, and she was gone.

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            Fiothiel bounded up the west wing stairs, pausing at every corner, breath caught raggedly in her throat. She could hear movement, but it was behind walls too thick to release their secrets. She knew every crack, every door, every corner. When it seemed like all of her options had been exhausted, the steady creak of a heavy oak door echoed through the hall.

            Every nerve in her body strung tight as a bowstring, she drew her dagger and opened the door with a push of her toe.

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            Tiptoeing along the east wing, Legolas tried to calm his beating heart. He could not tell if his palpitations were from fright, or the memory of her eyes mere inches from his. He tried to ignore the pattering of spidery branches on the windows, calling out to distract him. Trying to focus on the task at hand, he stopped when he heard the lively music begin anew. A mellow drumbeat could be heard, sounding the rhythm the dancers stepped to.

            _Beat two three, beat five six, beat… beat…_

            A scream.

            His head whipped around painfully as he sprinted towards the sound, not caring anymore about the silence in his step. Past the north wing, up the stairs… familiar surroundings became a blur as he came closer to the elaborate wooden door under which a crack of light could be seen. He drew his knife, and kneed the heavy door open with a bang.

            Time froze, but unawares, life went on below…

            _Beat two three, beat five six, beat…beat… beat._

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	12. chapter twelve

Disclaimer: I only own all original characters, credited to my overactive imagination.

Chapter Twelve 

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            _Who is dead? Celebrwien. No! Too long ago… then who is lying mangled on the floor? What sort of nightmare is this? Face down, suffocated in their own blood, one pointed ear still visible…Ai! Their hand is still warm, but no heartbeat, life has fled this place, and who can blame it? Not even hope has bothered to stay for a formal goodbye…_

_            A dark figure stands behind the corpse, breathing raggedly. I move backwards until I can feel the stone wall against my shaking shoulders, and stand. A gauzy curtain ripples aside, and a moonbeam is thrown across the face that will reveal who has made these past days a torturous dance of daydreams and nightmares._

            A laugh cuts through the nightmare I am living. It takes me a second to realize that it is my own.

"Isorfir! What…"

            _I freeze as the moonbeam spills down his tunic, revealing something that makes my heart drop, and my throat cave in._

_            Bloodstains._

_            I cry out, finally aware of my own voice. Keeping my back to the wall, I inch around the corner, drawing my dagger out in front of my chest. He, my friend, the one who taught me all I know, raised his hands slowly, looking stricken. Hoarsely, pleadingly, he spoke:_

"'Thiel, please! It was not me, why… I came too late! Please… _Lle rangwa?_"

            _I turn a silent ear to his pleadings, narrowing my eyes. I move so I am facing the chest of drawers, and throw open the doors._

_            A bloody sword lies on the clothing, staining a rich green tunic. Fear builds in my throat, and my knees turn soft as I turn it over carefully._

_            Isorfir's sword._

_            Faster then I have ever moved before, I whip around as a scream rips its way out of my ragged lungs. I throw my knee into his chest, movements executed before in playful sparring. Horror peeks its way out of his expression as I pin him on the canopy bed, my dagger pressed cold and cruel against his shivering throat. _

_            Green meets brown as I stare into his eyes, those eyes I know better than my own._

_            The crash of the door echoed in my brain as my nightmare silently crept away. _

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	13. chapter thirteen

Disclaimer: chapters one, two or three.. take your pick

Chapter Thirteen 

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            _This is no nightmare._

            The next thing she knew, Fiothiel found herself sprawled haphazardly on the crunchy frost covered ground, tears frozen on her cheeks. Disoriented and unfeeling, she walked in bare feet through the dry, icy woods.

            _It was no nightmare, _she told herself, _I felt it all, feel it all…the dead, the dying- Corintur._

She knew he was dead, but no tears came. She knew that her lips were stained dark with the cold, but she did not feel a chill. All feeling was gone, gone to someone who had less of a need. She danced a minuet for herself, ironically happy. Inwardly she screamed, begged for something, anything, but outwardly she wore a stolid clay mask.

            Her legs danced her forwards, and she bounced and shook in the frigid shell of her body that went off by itself. No one knew where she was going, least of all herself.

            In the distance a well-fed cloud stalked, full of frost-bearing flakes to dust the rolling hills flowing in the near distance. Hazel eyes gazed out a four-paned window, counting the funeral bells that reverberated from the bell tower.

            Turning away from the view, a smile grew, satisfied with they resounding bells banging accompaniments in their eardrums.

            Satisfied, but hunger pangs still shot through, compellingly painful.

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            Legolas watched his boots slip in and out of vision before him, leaving barely a trace on the ground he left behind. He had found Fiothiel kneeling over Isorfir, her knee pinning him down. Her dagger had nicked his throat, but right now that was the least of his problems. Thrown carelessly in jail, no trial needed. Just that scene was good enough.

            He stood unmoving before the woods, gazing up at the stately trees, so regal, so calm. All his life he had attempted to emulate qualities of the forest; dignified, tall, brave. He felt something crumbling beneath him, but he held on as tight as he could. But Fiothiel… younger, still so daring…

            A snatch of song caught by a gust of wind reached his ears. He recognized the voice at once, and slipped between two tall oaks towards the sound. 

            In twelve clangs of the funeral bells, he was there. 

            Fiothiel faced him, smiling an ironically mischievous smile. She stood waist-deep in the calm pond, still unfrozen due to the hot springs that bubbled up beneath. She continued to sing, her husky, lilting soprano enrapturing his ears. Not a mourning song, but a romantic street ballad often sung among men. The multifaceted moment was tucked away in his mind, and with that he stepped forwards.

            "What on earth do you think you are doing? You will surely freeze if you stay in much longer…"

            She turned away, singing bits of song back over her shoulder. Her once elaborately pinned waves fell in knots down her back, the gold turned dark chestnut brown by the looming storm clouds. The silky cream dress clung to her unabashedly, adhering like a second skin.

            Exasperated, he threw off his heavy cloak and waded in after her, the chill nipping reclusively at his toes. He touched her shoulder and the melody stopped abruptly as she turned her lovely moon of a face to view him clearer.

            "Please milady, get out of the chill! To have you fall ill is the last thing we need in times like this. I-" 

            The icy bone of her finger on his lips caved in his throat, and he felt his heart dip achingly to his chest.

            "You are all I have left," she whispered, her voice uncommonly deep and grating. "Understand me when I say Isorfir was the only relation I had. I am by myself, left standing alone and solitary all my days."

            He gripped her frozen fingers in his larger hand, closing what distance was left between them.

            "And understand me when I say that as long as I am here, alone you will not be."

            She drew a shuddering breath, and he absorbed the image of her surrendered, full lips tinged a soft blue, cheekbones flushed rosy.

             For a moment, they stood impossibly close, their bodies memorizing the curve and fold of the way they fit together. Green met blue, and she reveled in the feeling of breathing the same air he did.

            He studied her gaze intensely, and when her dark eyelashes brushed down gently to touch his cheeks, he smiled softly and bent down to place his lips against hers; her bottom lip nestled perfectly between his. His heart beat calmed, and his eyes too peacefully closed.

            She felt him smile against her lips, and surrendered to feelings that she had so long forgotten.

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Review!


	14. chapter fourteen

Disclaimer: Check chapter one

Chapter Fourteen 

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            Inundated with emotions, he stepped back and traced a cold finger down her neck, watching her still shuttered eyes blink open. She stood rigid, her song silenced, feelings running warm through her body. 

            The moment was shattered when she burst into tumultuous laughter, echoing in a parody against the frozen trees. She threw her head back, and stepped away from him, deeper into the chill water.

            "My companion has been thrown into the dungeons, my friend has been murdered, and I am out in the woods embracing a Prince! Surely this has all thrown me into a state of insanity… what has come over me… I am a guard, not an elf to be dallying in the forest…"

            He studied her, concerned, and stepped forwards to take her arm when she stumbled. He held her cold-darkened hand to his chest, and felt her shiver; whether from helplessness or the temperature he did not know.

            "Do not touch me! I am supposed to be protecting you… Rivendell… my comrades."

            She tried to yank her hand away, but he held fast and gripped her body tighter to him. She silenced then, and shut her fiery eyes. His body sensed the tremors running through her, reminiscent of the time when she was possessed, taken by nightmares, silenced for days. 

            Without a word, he bent and scooped her legs out from beneath her. The added weight of her soaking, frozen dress did naught for the simplicity of the task, but he carried her out of the water with relative ease. Vexed by his boldness, she twisted out of his grasp, and fell on her knees in the textured woodland moss.

            "What sort of twisted reality is this, Legolas? It is almost like I am seeing the world through shards of a broken mirror…"

            "Lady, you cannot be thinking straight, you are freezing, and I should get you inside as soon as possible-all we need is one more problem! Open your ears and listen, before I have to take you by force."

            Silenced, she shut her eyes and buried her oval face in slender hands, wiping away nonexistent tears. 

            Gently he picked her up, and carried her slowly inside, with such informality from a distance you would guess he was carting a satchel of goods, destined for the palace.

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            He placed her sprawled on her side on top of her creamy bed sheets, eyes wide open, but an expressionless face. Legolas pulled over a chair, and sat down quickly, studying her intensely.

            Her once elegant gown was now almost translucent, clinging to her warrior's body like film from a cake of soap. Golden-brown curls turned deep chestnut from the damp, spiraling furiously down her back. Face like a harvest moon, but ghostly white, profile cut in ivory granite. She looked sickly, tired, spent. His eyes trailed down her body, stopping when he realized how vulnerable she really was. Doing his best to keep his every rampant emotion in check, he walked to her chest of drawers and pulled out a blanket, which he threw over her with a wave of his tired arms.

            Fiothiel heard the blanket crack in the air, and snapped quickly out of her stupor. He noticed her eyes snap open, and tucked the quilt neatly around her. She sat up, wrapped snug.

            "I-" she opened her mouth to speak.

            He leaned over closer to her, and put his thumb gently on her cold lips.

            "Save your energy, _dinaera_, for as the sun rises tomorrow, I will take you to see Isorfir."

            She moved her head up, down in a sort of nod, and he ran his calloused hand over her shoulder, gently tracing the raised line of her collarbone.

            Stopping the caress of his hand, she took it in her own and kissed the back with a feather light touch of her lips.

            "_Diola lle_."

            With a slight smile gracing his lips, he took his leave.

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Review! 

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	15. chapter fifteen

Disclaimer: Don't own them, sorry

Chapter Fifteen 

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            _Echoes, echoes- where do they come from?_

_            A long-past leftover of a scream for help, a lover's whisper to their starlit companion, battle cries of glory and defeat._

_            Slipping its way into my restless mind, my echo settles down for a night full of torment._

_            This echo gnaws painfully on my thoughts I once believed solid, dripping infestations of doubt into the bite marks._

_            What does this echo say, you ask?_

"'Thiel, please! It was not me, why… I came too late! Please… _Lle rangwa?_"

            _Every syllable pounds a drumbeat behind my eyelids, flushing my cheeks and tracing a cold finger up the rattled bones of my spine. I turn over, wrapped in my sheets tight as if they were a shroud. I play games with myself, not allowing my toes to peek out of the blanket, afraid to open my eyes and see my room in shadow. _

_            As I drift in and out of consciousness, my echo continues to scream mercilessly; pleading, begging, gnawing, crying. Screwing my eyes tight shut, attempting to block my thoughts, I fall into a trance filled with nothing._

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_            My mind jumps through a checklist of things any courtly lady should be, things that any wife of mine should be expected to master. Not long after the quest was done and I was safely home, I decided that I would take no wife, and live the simple life of a warrior. The sea often calls to me, but my love for my homeland is such that I prolong my departure and spend my time here, living life peacefully._

_            Peace is not what I found here._

_            From the day Fiothiel got the best of me in the woods to tonight, my thoughts have not strayed far from her face. All my life I have thought love to be a quirky infatuation, but denying it, I have found, is near impossible._

_            Kissing her was both the weakest moment of my existence, and the most beautiful._

_            Sleep is hard to find tonight, though never a problem for me. I step out to the balcony, watching moonlight glimmer like an unsheathed sword on the pond past the night-darkened trees. _

_            My mind settles back on the memory of her embrace, feeling her shiver beneath my hands, her chin tilted against mine as I kissed her as I had never kissed another before. I remember her reaction, the way she drew back from me, confused._

_            I took advantage of her, taking her when she was at her weakest. What have I done? She cannot love me anymore than I should her. Two blinded warriors: one muddled from love, the other from pain. _

_            Never again will I let my emotions take hold of me like they did then._

_            I will have to be satisfied by the memory of love's first, and only, embrace._

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	16. chapter sixteen

Disclaimer: check chapters one, two, or three.

**Chapter Sixteen**

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            Daylight seeped gray through windowpanes and bony tree branches, hanging from a dull sky that sat so low that one could almost feel the pressure building up on their shoulders, tainting every breath that entered their lungs. A skeletal cold breath blew halfheartedly against the palace walls, smug in the knowledge that frost built up in hallway corners as fires feebly snapped short-lived sparks against the creeping chill.

             Every movement a purpose within itself, Fiothiel determinedly pulled on her boots, a heavy wool cloak swinging heavily about her shoulders. No more weeping, no more worrying, no more pleas echoing in her ears. All of that foolishness was washed out of her, like a piece of cloth left too long exposed to the elements.

            Or so it seemed.

            _Candles, shed not light when I walk by, for fear that someone will see the grief and terror hidden behind my eyes reflected tenfold._

Quietly composed, she exited, head held high and dignified, but trembling hands speaking of something buried deep within.

            Unaware of someone who watched, someone unexpected.

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            _She shakes like an animal cornered, like a frozen leaf caught halfway in ice._

_My heart thaws momentarily, remembering words she spoke so kindly to me, regarding me as an equal, as a friend._

_            But when I think of whom she is going to see, my thoughts turn icy so fast I can almost hear my mind crack from the cold._

_            Perhaps it will hurt him to see her so, cause him more pain before he will be snuffed out like a long-forgotten candle stub, because he is nothing to anyone anymore._

_            Killed just as the only one I ever loved was killed: mercilessly, routinely._

_            Just as I remember it, clear as the memory of my own body._

_            My reflection speaks my feelings as I cannot, as my lips curve up in a smile I have never seen before._

_            Hazel eyes glint, and I turn away._

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            She stood now in the place she always tried so hard to avoid, for it marred her perfect vision of her home: a dark, dank, stone-walled prison that threw each contained whisper back as a shout, with stagnant vibrant-green moss cushioning otherwise unforgiving corners. 

            And the very person who had helped her take others into the same cell was curled up right in the middle of it, folded in on himself in a darkened corner. He looked pitifully up at the amplified sound of her footsteps, and the cruel shadows threw splatters of ink across his tortured expression. Fiothiel froze at the sight of him, and nodded to the silent guard who plodded softly up the stairs, the sound mirroring the slow pace of her heartbeat.

            How can you not speak to the person who was once your confidant, to whom you let spill secrets never told twice? A simple thrust of a knife, twisted reasons cause prepared accusations to linger chillingly at the base of her tongue, unspoken.

            Words would have swollen and burst, unable to contain the volumes of emotion that needed to be expressed.

            He stood up slowly, watching as the gray outside light caught the twin mirrors of her eyes. She tried her best to appear forbidding, but the fury in her face subsided to one of dismay as she saw a tear leave a glimmering trail down his cheek, a diamond among pebbles.

            "Your eyes," he muttered hoarsely, "your eyes are green. Mine, mine are brown."

            Fiothiel was about to ask if he truly had lost his sanity when he banged his hand against the iron bars, setting loose a crash that ripped back even louder as the walls seemed to shake.

            He spoke so quietly now that she unwittingly stepped closer, to hear his grating whisper.

            "Beware eyes the color of honeyed tea, of dying leaves… they haunt me day and night, I never should have… should have told you before…"

            "Told me what?" she spat back harshly. "Tell me now, before I run out of patience and leave you to your fate!"

            He gripped the bars desperately, like two drowning swimmers cling to each other in desperation.

            "Never trust… do not trust the hazel eyes."

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	17. chapter seventeen

Disclaimer: see chapter one 

A/N: this is probably the most 'romantic' chapter I have done so far… shame on me!

Chapter Seventeen 

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            When one is thrown a glimmer of a clue, it sits among thought pebbles, reflecting off thoughts and sending hints to the heart. Trembling, Fiothiel walked briskly up the stairs, hearing Isorfir's sobs rattle around in her skull. With her head down she strode through the hallways, avoiding the eyes of all who passed. The time would come when she could muster the courage to walk with her head high again, and let color clash upon color…

            The opportunity presented itself when she rounded a corner and ran flush into another, but she could not force herself to gaze upwards, and instead relied on her other senses.

            The stranger placed one hand on her hip, and the other on her cheek. She trembled, and kept her head bowed and her eyes shut, eyelashes throwing arched shadows on her cheekbones.

            "You need not fear to look upon me, Lady," he spoke, "last time I glanced in a mirror, I was no monster."

            Gently, he slid a battle-roughened finger under her chin, and slowly lifted her gaze. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes.

            "Legolas," she exhaled, "I have much to tell you."

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            After words were exchanged and minds emptied, they sat alone in Legolas' library. Dusty books stretched high up to the ceiling in straight columns, while intricately carved deep mahogany chairs sat in front of the high arched window, which let in a glimpse of the fresh snow that snapped like gravel against the translucent glass. A fire burned thoughtfully in the corner, sending out ripples of heat to blur the bricks around it.

            "Hazel eyes are uncommon, but there are still too many elves with that trait to pick one," Fiothiel mused, "we need more then just that to help."

            He nodded, and leaned closer as her tone changed, and the guise of bravery slid from her stance.

            "But I fear that the one we have been searching for all along is the one that I am too afraid to open my eyes and see… for fear of losing a trusted friend, whether sincere or feigned."

            She attempted a weak smile, and inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. A pang of sympathy cracked his heart, and he stepped forwards to envelop her in his arms. He felt her pulse flutter against his neck, and held her tighter, his large palm caressing circles on her back.

            Fiothiel could feel his warmth radiating through to her, and the tense muscles in her back relaxed as his soothing hands traced gentle patterns on her spine.

            "Do not worry, Fiothiel, because my heart tells me that you are truly brave. These are trying times, and it must be difficult to accept that all the facts place the guilt upon Isorfir, and there is naught you can do but accept what you believe to be true. _Cormelle naa Tanya tel' raa_*, and I know you can face anything that comes about."

            He felt her smile against his neck, and her constrained words brushed gently against his heated skin, "I know not what to say, for such passionate faith in the character of another I have not often heard," She lifted her head and spoke directly into his ear, her lips barely brushing the delicate shell, "and I appreciate this, and everything that you have done for me, Prince Legolas."

            At the whisper of warm air against his sensitive ear, he drew in a sharp breath and stepped hesitantly back, keeping her eyes locked with his own. They stood frozen, two profiles like puzzle pieces waiting to be fit together.

            He grasped her hand, and brought it slowly up to his lips, straying not outside the rules of formality though they were alone, in a warm sanctuary in the midst of ice.

            Skin and skin met, and separated, leaving behind a cool sensation where heat once lingered.

            "Goodnight, Fiothiel."

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Review


	18. chapter eighteen

Disclaimer: check chapter one

Authors note: Ah, the joys of being sick! Thanks to some sweet form of a cold, I get to stay home and… dum dum dum… write! 

            To all who are worried about the Mary-Sue potential this story has, (eeek!) this story takes place after RotK, and is my interpretation of something that never seemed to happen in any of the books… a mystery/murder/problem within Rivendell. Romance just happened to sneak its sneaky little way into this, and will not, CAN NOT be the main focus of this story. Please yell at me if you feel Fiothiel is a Mary-Sue, or if you think I am getting "romantically" sidetracked. 

            By the way, I was thinking of changing the title/summary… any ideas? Drop a review if you think you have a good one… thanks!

            Enjoy!

Chapter Eighteen 

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            ****

Snow fit Rivendell well, like a sheet tossed up only to drape itself down in a gentle silence that compelled all within to speak softly, step gently. 

            Fiothiel watched this all from her window, inside her room. The small plane of Rivendell she watched was secure, untouched by elven feet. Snow covered lies, concealed secrets, hid flowers waiting to bloom when the first ray of sunlight warmed the fertile earth.

            Sunlight had fled from this place long ago.

            Down the winding hallway and to the right, another elf stood regally in front of a different window, watching the view on the other side. Memories of firelit nights plagued his mind, while hazel eyes haunted hers.

            Neither of their thoughts were to be soon left forgotten.

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            While the early hours of the morning still concealed most, Fiothiel slipped on her woolen cloak and stepped out into the surpressing chill. The halls were almost empty, but her shaking hand rested briefly on the dagger she had in her belt every time she turned a corner.

            She stepped out into a snow-silenced garden, and smiled when she saw another gazing at the snow, hands behind his broad-shouldered back.

            "Elrohir!"

            She ran to him then, and he embraced her tightly as he laughed.

            "Fiothiel, it has been too long since I have seen you! And what a sight to see…"

            She drew back and grinned, her spirits instantly lightened at the mere glimpse of her old friend. His appearance reassured her, an unchanging boulder amidst crumbling foundations. Still strong, tall, and raven-haired, his euphoric smile she remembered fondly. His hands cupped her face gently, and he kissed her forehead lightly as she laughed.

            "Indeed, it has been quite some time. You, however, look the same as always! Once a knave, always a knave."

            He joined in her laughter, but drew silent as he gazed over her shoulder at the palace. "But all the same, I sense something has changed. Am I correct in assuming so?"

            Fiothiel bit her lip and glanced down, furrowing her brow. "You are correct, and all too perceptive. This may take much more explaining than you have time to listen…"

            Elrohir smoothed her forehead with his calloused palm, and smiled reassuringly. "For you, my comrade, I have all the time you need."

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            Indeed, Fiothiel explained herself until the sun began to sink slowly behind the snow-encrusted trees. Tapers were lit along the garden paths, illuminating ten-pointed stars on the white canvas beneath. A soft yellow light reflected of their contemplating expressions, carving shadows under cheekbones and turning eyes into mirrors.

            "It seems to me you have handled everything as I would have," said Elrohir, "but I know not what to do next. Apparently, there is naught we can do but accept who we have, unless something else presents itself."

            A tortured emotion flitted briefly across her countenance, and Elrohir knew that these times were agonizing for her, a parallel dimension between reality and nightmare.

            "I understand that this is quite a burden for you, with Isorfir taken, and Celebrwien and Corintur killed…"

            He did not get to finish his attempt at comfort. Fiothiel whirled around, and placed both of her fists on his chest as he abruptly broke off his trail of speech.

            "A burden? Is that all you think this is? I spend every moment of every hour that passes thinking on what has happened… It weaves through my every thought, every movement, even every gesture I make is not made without seeing Isorfir's pleading face through the iron bars."

            "'Thiel, I'm sorry! That was inconsiderate of me… all I want to do is help you."

            She turned away from him then, and spoke in a voice inundated with grief.

            "Then leave me be."

            He hesitated, then left the icicle-jeweled clearing, his once proud statue seemingly hunched.

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            It was a stricken elf that sat alone on a snowy stone bench, the heat of her body melting the frozen crystals around her. She could no longer feel her fingers, but she knew that feeling was something she didn't need. Emotions spent, she stared blankly at the changing pattern of snowfall that danced before her.

            She often wished she could go sail the seas without regret, without feeling like she had left something undone, a piece of her puzzle never found. What once kept her here; a love for her homeland, was torn into millions of scraps. It would be so easy to go, and never look back!

            _To go to the sea, where salty air brushed easily past your nose, sand dunes curve gracefully down to crystalline aqua tides, and the cry of gulls reassuringly echoes._

_            Echoes._

            A muffled fall of snow snapped her back to attention, and she quickly stood.

            "Who's there? Elrohir?"

            She moved to look sideways as a hare dashed across the path, leaving oval footprints in the white.

            Without warning, a dagger shot right past her face, missing her turned head by a hairsbreadth. She froze, and watched as it clattered noisily to the icy cobblestones.

            Snow-dampened footsteps shot out of her range of hearing, and all was silent.

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Review!


	19. chapter nineteen

Disclaimer: See chapter one

Author's note: Special super thanks to Letylyf, Anna Arkadyevna Karenina, and all my other reviewers for keeping me going. I appreciate it! : )

"Tell all the truth but tell it slant-

Success in Circuit lies

Too bright for our infirm Delight

The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased

With explanation kind

The Truth must dazzle gradually

Or every man be blind-"

Emily Dickinson

Chapter Nineteen 

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_            I'm not sure where to begin to organize my scattered thoughts._

_            At the beginning, I suppose._

_            Ever since the War of the Ring ended, peace and prosperity thrived among those elves that chose not to sail to Valinor. Soon, the proud, noble, legendary race of the elves will diminish, quietly fade into musty, watermarked textbooks among other map-breath'd ancestors._

_            I would go, slip in to a quiescent, halcyon existence where my nerves would be at rest, frayed no more by things that must seem so petty to those who have seen great battles, survived arrow wounds, lived through the darkness that threatened to seep into every corner._

_            But I would leave something undone behind._

_            I have not lived fully, not known love, not fought in wars… but that is not what keeps me._

_            There is a piece of myself that I have yet to discover, like a chip missing on a fine china plate – incomplete, unfinished._

_            For this I'll wait, and for the sake of those not avenged._

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            As morning cracked blindingly bright over the snow-glimmered horizon, Fiothiel dressed quickly and returned to where she had sat the night before, where hopefully the dagger still lay. She made her way down the twisting staircases, built outdoors and right into the looming cliff faces. As the garden came closer, Fiothiel felt her breath strangle tight in her chest, and blood rush a little faster through her veins. Blinking rapidly to try and clear her mind, she stepped into the garden, anticipatory.

            Countless imprints mangled the once smooth white plane of snow, and after quickly scanning the area, she found no dagger.

            Someone had slipped in unnoticed, and trampled furiously around the clearing, obviously trying to cover tracks. Fiothiel dropped to her knees, and discovered that all of the imprints were from the same, rather small, shoe.

            Resisting the urge to scream and tear at her hair, Fiothiel tried to follow the heavy footfalls of her mysterious enemy, but the pattern was so erratic she could uncover nothing.

            _Wait…_

            She turned slowly, and looked at her own footsteps.

            There were none.

            Her breath snapped out a frozen gasp as she turned and ran back towards the palace.

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            "Elrohir! Elrohir, come quickly!"

            Pausing in his conversation, Elrohir turned to the glass-paned window and saw Fiothiel, hissing a sharp whisper as she beckoned furiously. Slightly amused, he turned back to his companion, and spoke.

            "It seems I have a visitor- excuse the interruption."

            Across from him, Legolas raised his eyebrows in interest, asking a silent question.

            Elrohir paused, then addressed his curiosity. "We may as well both go, it seems to be something of importance."

            He nodded, and they both rose.

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            Standing expectantly in the main hallway, Fiothiel seemed rather surprised at the appearance of two elves; one dark, one fair.

            "I need you to help me with something- a quick favor."

            They both nodded, and followed her out to the secluded garden. Quickly she recounted her tale: the dagger, the footsteps, the missing clues. She led them to an unblemished sheet of snow, its crystals catching the sunlight and flashing the dark from their eyes, a snow-smile.

            Fiothiel gestured towards the snow. "Walk."

            Elrohir motioned for Legolas to go ahead, and he stepped up onto the white and walked in a circle, feeling slightly foolish.

            Elrohir and Fiothiel joined him, walking slowly across the snowbank. Eager for answers, Fiothiel dropped to her knees and examined the footsteps of all three, hers slightly smaller. Footsteps they could hardly be called, for they made barely an imprint on the very tip-top dusting of the snow…

            Grinning triumphantly, she waved a long arm towards the garden. 

            "No elf could have done that unconsciously! Those footsteps are not those of an elf,"

            Legolas finished her winding trail of thought.

            "A human."

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	20. chapter twenty

Chapter 20 

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            Moonlight filtered translucently through a high window cut with neither care nor an eye for design. Prone and crumpled on the floor, Isorfir blinked as the glow caught his eye like a glimmer of mithril. 

            Shaking nightmares from the fog behind his unsleeping eyes, he stood, his lengthy, picturesque frame caught in the light, catching the angle of his memory, the edges blurred with the silvery echo of the moon.

            Without a sound, he stepped across the cold stone, every muscle in his body concentrating on complete oblivion, untraced silence. Upon reaching the wall, he looked up towards the source of the light that interrupted his unseeing rest. 

            If the guard were still standing in the musty hall, he may have seen his unspeaking prisoner stretch soundlessly to the ends of his toes, his dark hair spilling onto his broad shoulders like a curtain hiding a furtive criminal. 

            The guard may have laughed at the helpless elf, like a child too small to reach his mother to beg. If he were there, however, his laughter would have quickly been swallowed if he witnessed the elf take two purposeful steps back, and jump the impossible distance to pull himself level to the light, his face completely illuminated in an expression of set determination. Before he could yell for help, or fumble for the keys, the once-prisoner had pulled himself out and sideways, clenching his ribs between the unforgiving stone to scrape through the window, sealing for a brief snatch of time the entrance of the glowing moonlight, like a key fits a lock.

            Soft, carefully paced steps turned the hallway corner to peer into the cell, just as the moonlight returned to awash the truth in an ethereal glow... but too late to see it.

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            His breath caught in an adrenaline-fueled gasp in his throat as Isorfir padded quickly down the twisting corridors, further and further into the stone-carved hallways that were Rivendell. Stone faeries and statues of elves long faded into the mist watched his descent into the east wing, seeing into the motives that kept his heart beating and unbroken.

            After several rotations of the clock, Fiothiel's mahogany door stood formidably before him, looming and foreboding. Deciding quickly against knocking, he pushed the door open with two long fingers, stepping in sideways so the door needed not to be opened fully.

            Her bed was empty, but his gaze was drawn to the floor-length gauze curtains rippling in the wind's chill breath, like the flags of the Rivendell guard snapped smartly every day. Her silhouette was pronounced from his vantage point, strong-shouldered yet weakened at the same time.

            Her mind wandered from thought to thought, like a warrior in a weaponry. Some she dared not linger on, but some tantalized her senses so that they could not be so simply discarded, and instead waited patiently to be fully considered, knowing their full power and their need to be pondered.

            The journey of her thoughts was cut short by a hoarse, desperate whisper.

            "Fiothiel."

            Her hands shook, but from his viewpoint he could see nothing but her unmoving back as he listened to her quiet response.

"An lema, Isorfir? Mani nae lle umien?" Long journey, Isorfir? What took you so long?

Trying hard not to profess shock at her indifferent tone, he continued to close the distance between them.

"Mankoi lle irma sint? I believe you know very well where I was." Why do you want to know?

She turned then, and took in the full sight of him- ragged, with holes torn along the sides of his once magnificent Guard uniform. His cheeks were smeared with dirt and his hair matted, but there was no concealing the aura of regal pride and ethereal beauty that can never be hidden in those of elfkind.

Closing the final length between them, she took his shaking hands in hers and met his unwavering azure glance with a fiery green one of her own.

Again, she spoke, her whole being frozen but her lips.

"Ed' i'ear ar' elenea,by the sea and stars Isorfir, I knew it could never have been you. Astalder,valiant one, we have fought side by side in more battles than I can remember, brought down more foes together than either of us could accomplish in six lifetimes alone."

He brought up a hand in protest, but she gripped it in her own and cut him off with her own commanding voice before he could utter a word.

"Amin caela lle, I know you, and I have spent my days looking for further proof that I am correct in the assumption of your innocence. We do not have much time, and I gather that you have much to tell me, aratoamin, mellonamin. my champion, my friend"

No more words of confirmation needed to be spoken, any emotions left were buried as the two elves embraced fiercely, both gathering bits of strength, basking in the knowledge that they would always have the other by their side, for elven friendships are forged to last forever, to withstand the test of time, and linger for ages, kept even when the call of the ever-persistent sea is answered.

Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar 

I will follow you to death and beyond.

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Review!


	21. chapter twenty one

**Author's Note:** I can't believe how long this story has gone on for, and I look back on some of the earlier chapters and cringe in horror… but this story is my baby, so onwards we go! Many apologies for the delay. Oh yes, this is being switched to R because of the violence back in the beginning chapters, not quite sure why I didn't leave it that way in the first place. Enjoy this longer than usual chapter!

                                                                        **Chapter 21**

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            From the moment the sun spilled across the honey-glazed wood of her room, she knew that the time for action was now. No more escapades and twirling around the subject, but rather a quick-footed ambush. She dressed quickly and walked with short steps to the door of Legolas' quarters, knocking forcefully at the heavy oak door.

            He came out alert and fully dressed, and her subconscious grinned in the knowledge that he was as ready to do this as was possible. They had no plan but to wait in seclusion, watching the tread of all who walked by upon the snow. 

Isorfir, unbeknownst to the rest of the community, was resting alone in a far tower of the palace, abandoned by all until now. His mind weakening, Fiothiel knew that the best recovery for him would be to rest in warmth, lie in medicinal dreamless sleep until the caresses of time soothed his jangled nerves. She left him alone last night with a brush of lips against his forehead, his recovery never far from her mind. She knew Legolas understood the situation, for the careless prison guard had hurriedly spat the news to him the previous night. Assured by Fiothiel's nod from across the room, he told the guard to keep an eye out, and sent the befuddled elf away.

            Their footsteps grazed silently over the top of the deepening snow, leaving nothing but slightly ruffled ice crystals in their wake. Without speaking, the two elves stepped a fair distance into the sunrise-lit woods, and settled down to wait behind a group of shrubs that stubbornly held onto their leaves, despite the cold. The path that they watched was well used during the day, frequented by both handmaidens and royalty alike. No one could be ruled out. Elrohir was laying in wait beside the east wing, alone but still deadly with a precise accuracy when handed a bow.

            Finally taking the time to acknowledge the other's presence, the guard and the archer locked gazes. Memories of fire-glazed eyes rippled through their thoughts, of honey-coated tongues and sunlight-ridden hair. Both brushed away such daydreamings with a careless hand, but drops of glowing embers still lingered in the present icy mindset of both. Finally deciding to speak, Fiothiel opened her mouth, whispering hoarsely.

            "We have quite a task set out for us today, Greenleaf. I hope you are prepared to endure long hours spent waiting."

            He smiled lopsidedly in response, and leaned the full length of his spine up against the rough tree bark, his cloak catching on the corrugated wood. 

            "After spending so many years in pursuit, I think waiting will be a welcome change."

            They bantered back and forth so quietly that even elven ears couldn't catch their mutterings, further muffled by the snow-burdened evergreens, bending over with the white weight. Both felt a sense of comfort aided by the slide back into a friendship, but the skipped heartbeat when their eyes met spoke of something missing, however easily overlooked by the project at hand.

            Their soft words ceased as the first travelers of the day began to traverse the path, their heritage reflected through their footsteps when their delicately pointed ears were hidden. Fiothiel felt the cold begin to seep through her heavy wool cloak, and shifted positions fairly frequently, as did the Prince. The urgency of their task only fueled the adrenaline that still lingered despite the cold and the lack of change in the consistently light-footed tread marks. The hours rolled by, gathering the shadows and the fading light to trail behind it in a glittering brocade of chiaroscuro. Their mouths grew solid as the silence melted their jaws together, lips like sandpaper in the dry chill. 

            Finally the fading light disappeared with a wink of a sunset, sliding off behind the blackened hills. With muscles feeling like blocks of ice and breath exhaling in ice crystals, the two cramped elves took their leave from the darkening glade. Walking defeated side by side, the palace doors gleamed welcomingly in the distance like twin embers in ash. Slowly working apart her clamped jaw, Fiothiel asked the one question that had been on her mind since the time she tackled an elven stranger in the woods.

            "Legolas," she queried, "why is it you have not taken your journey across the seas? You have seen many years, and surely after the quest was fulfilled, the seas have crossed your mind more than once."

            He stopped walking then, and glanced down at the ground as if in thought before answering her. "I would be speaking untruthfully if I said that the sea does not call to me, for it does, more often than I think I can stand. But I know that something is keeping me here, something unfinished and unknown to myself. When I am in the company of some, the cry of the gulls and the crash of the waves diminishes, and I remain in the world I have known all my life."

            Fiothiel nodded her head in understanding, and the ice crystals trapped in her hair caught the light of the fading moon. Still inquisitive, she spoke again.

            "What is it that keeps you here?"

            Legolas lifted his head to the stars and smiled, closing his eyes as if expecting a gift from the heavens. He turned to face her, and she felt her question catch in the back of her throat as he stepped closer, and she reached out a hand to place upon his shoulder. He placed his hand on the skin between her jawline and throat, sweeping the gentle waves of her hair behind her shoulder. She unwittingly closed her eyes, and the silvery light cast curving shadows along the top of her cheekbones as she felt her pulse catch when his hand brushed against her neck.

            After the cacophony of senses began to dwindle into familiarity, he leaned in closer to her, speaking into her ear and igniting a flame near her trapped heart, crashing in her ribs. 

            "Something enchanting keeps me here, an enchantment that appeared before me in the flesh, filling out my doubtful dreams like a river in a dry creek bed. _Nae saian luume_ it has been too long, Fiothiel."

            She blinked slowly, trying hard to sweep away the feeling of his warm cheek against hers, the mist of their breath expanding and disappearing in the frozen air like clouds after a storm. She drew back, her hands still grasping his forearms. Staring blankly at the night-lit shadows of his face, she raised her hands to his face as she spoke, forgetting all rational thoughts.

            "It has been a full cycle of the moon, my lord," their profiles moved closer, like two links of a chain waiting to be fit, as her voice dropped in tone, "but even a day would be too long."

            Their lips met with a sweetness that faded the reality of their situation to a blurry cloud of grey and white. She grasped his cornsilk hair, running her fingers along the nape of his neck as if to take the shape to memory. She could feel his hands softy following her jawline, the blunt tips of his fingers leaving flushed skin in their wake. His lips left hers for a brief snatch of time, but that heartbeat was enough to brush the cool wind across their faces, snuffing the soft warmth that pushed away all qualms.

            Fiothiel looked at the snow-brushed ground, and lowered her hands from his shoulders to grasp his and bring them down to his sides as he stood unmoving. She glanced up, and saw that he was looking beyond her, staring at the woods from which they came. She could feel her heart drop down to her knees as he spoke, still staring blankly, not even a glimmer in his eye as his voice broke from a whisper.

            "_Meleth nîn_…" his voice trailed off to nothing as she blinked away a glimmer in her eye, knowing that even if she was to let a tear fall, it would lie frozen on her cheek. 

            "Goodnight, my lord." Her legs stood ready to flee, but her spirit lingered as she leaned forward and kissed the bridge of his nose, standing on tiptoe with her head leaned back, both hands holding onto him as if he was keeping her from slipping into oblivion. 

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            _Unexpected, yes, but irrelevant? On the contrary, very relevant. Those two elves are together wise beyond their countless years, both skilled in the art of physical and mental combat. Their embrace came as a surprise to me, as well as their timing. Why would they be out on this path at this hour of the night? The answer should be obvious, but their tryst seems to be something that even they couldn't have predicted. _

_            I hear whispers about the palace, the prison guard confused about the loss of the prisoner. I knew he wouldn't stay long, he's far too clever to be trapped. Always sneaking out of things. It will not be long until I find out where he is being kept, I am far too plain to be noticed wandering in places I shouldn't be. He knows my face, oh yes he knows it well. Hazel eyes are not forgotten for long._

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            __


	22. chapter twentytwo

**Author's Note: **I hope you enjoy this, and review! I know you're reading this, ohhh yes I do… and thanks to Lady Tremere and letylyf for their lovely reviews… they know what happens to people who read and don't review!snickers evilly 

Chapter 22 

            Time passes quickly to those who have seen more lifetimes than an entire generation. A full cycle of the moon came, went, and returned again to blend the seasons seamlessly from the bone-chilling cold to the gentle spring that sets the trees alight with a brilliant green. Life went on per usual in Rivendell, excepting for the fact that Isorfir still lay concealed in the far east tower. Fiothiel tried time and time again to wrench some bit of information out of him, but the only result was a single tear gliding slowly down his cheek. His lips were parched, and though she pleaded and begged unceasingly, he only shook his head back and forth, mussing his dark locks thrown carelessly across the pillow. Smudged hollows grew dark under his ebony eyes, and Fiothiel heard him cry out in his rest, once sobbing like an elfling. 

            Footprints would no longer be an available clue, the snow had long melted to reveal tentative grass and widespread wildflowers spread about the grounds. The city's many towers and spires rose up majestically from the greenery, shedding the gray pallor everything seemed to acquire during the long winter months.

            To the outside observer, everything was fine, bursting with the clean scent of the season of rebirth.

            For several, death still hung like an undercurrent in the air, pulling them further and further out.

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            _I remember the day when I saw my parents die choking on their own blood, writhing on the ground._

_            Does he?_

_            Elves are renowned for their nobility, agility, strength, wisdom. Though I am among them day in and day out, these qualities always pass me by. To me they are calculating killers, who trust no one outside their own race and care not for the emotions of others. They do not notice my differences, not caring to look twice and see that my ears do not come to a point like theirs, that my feet leave marks on the ground I tread upon. Some can be kind, for there are always some, but with every elf whose throat I slit a feeling of satisfaction sets in, and the muscles between my shoulder blades relax, if only for a short period of time. Sometimes I worry I am insatiable, and my thirst will one day have me discovered, in the throes of my vengeful madness._

_            But I realize then – no one ever would suspect me. Meek, quiet, unassuming… my guise is my power._

_            ^                      ^                      ^                      ^                      ^                      ^                      ^_

            Fiothiel stepped quickly into her room, turning to shut the heavy door behind her.

            "Anelith?"

            Seeing her crouched in the corner with her back turned, Fiothiel watched her handmaiden curiously as she spun around to meet her eyes. Standing slowly, she smiled gently as she walked towards her, and dipped a quick curtsy as she responded.

            "Yes, milady?"

            Relaxing, Fiothiel smiled as she rested her hand upon Anelith's shoulder, feeling the rounded curve of muscle under the linen blouse.

            "Please, Anelith, call me Fiothiel. Such formalities are unnecessary between us."

            Anelith looked to the ground, fiddling with the tie waistband of her skirt, her fingers massaging the cloth nervously. 

            "Of course – I will call you what you wish."

            Though still unsatisfied with the awkward answer, Fiothiel left with a benign smile and a lift of her hand, closing the door with a muffled click behind her. Forgetting what she had gone to her chamber for, she started walking towards the east tower where Isorfir was hidden, still locked in a state of unresponsiveness. 

            Back in her chamber, Anelith moved slowly towards Fiothiel's heavy oak dresser, staring unblinking at her reflection in the wood-framed mirror, its sides carved with ornate designs. She brought up a hand to the shoulder where Fiothiel had touched her, brushing slowly at the fabric as if to rid herself of dust. Her hand slid slowly down to her skirt pocket, where a lump was clearly visible.

            She drew out a short-bladed knife, glinting pale in the fading spring evening light. Twirling it around her hand so it sat clenched tight in her fist, she raised her arm with a sharp intake of breath and slammed the knife full force into the smooth oak of the table.

            The crash still echoing resoundingly in her skull, she rested both hands flat on the surface, breathing heavily with the emotions that smashed furiously against her ribcage, sending buzzing heat down her arms and up her neck. She brought up a work-calloused hand to tuck her dark-honey hair behind her ear, the tip of her index finger tracing its round tip. Her eyes came up to meet their twins in the mirror, and she scanned their depths searchingly. 

            _Hazel eyes – eyes the color of unadulterated tea, of fading autumn leaves. They will not forget them, or me, very easily. Just like I never forgot that day – when my soul died along with my parents and was buried with them in a pauper's grave._

            She pocketed the knife in one swift movement, and left the room.


End file.
